


The Best (so far)

by WhimsicalEthnographies



Series: Up Came the Sun [25]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Brand New Baby Morgan, FUTURE Peter and Michelle, Father's Day, Fuck Canon we die like men, Gen, May Parker is Magic, Mostly Fluff, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, and now they're all a big happy family, like indulgent fluff, nobody was an idiot in this universe, this is Marvel Earth-199999.1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-13 03:11:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19242643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalEthnographies/pseuds/WhimsicalEthnographies
Summary: “Oh!” He pulls the blue package out from under his arm.  “I almost forgot!  Happy Father’s Day, Mr. Stark,” Peter hands Tony the gift.“Pete, you didn’t have to get me a gift,” Tony smirks at him, but takes the present.“I know, but, like, I wanted to.  For this one,” Peter smiles shyly, gesturing to the messily wrapped rectangle in Tony’s hands.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet, had to do a Father's Day entry is a Marvel-verse that doesn't suck. 
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> If you don't mind a blog that consists of shitposting, misunderstanding the memes all the kids talk about today, Johnlock conspiracies, and occasional MCU screaming follow me on the tumblr dot com [whimsicalethnographies](http://whimsicalethnographies.tumblr.com/)

“He remembered we’re doing brunch, right?” Tony hands a sleeping Morgan off to May, who relaxes back into the lush sofa with a little coo at the tiny baby. It seems Morgan only ever sleeps when May is over. Demon child. Or maybe Demon May. Pepper’s told him a dozen times he shouldn’t have expected anything different, considering half her DNA is his. The last time she said it she was screaming, before they immediately placed a desperate, emergency call to the Parker household at three in the morning.

“Yes, Tony,” May gently pokes Morgan’s chubby cheek. Of course she stays soundly out. “But you know how they get. I swear I don’t know what they’re gonna do in August.”

“Mmmm,” Tony turns back to the open dining area, where Pepper is setting out champagne glasses. Despite neither of them getting more than an hour of sleep at a time in the past three weeks, she’d insisted on doing brunch on Father’s day. There’s only going to be six of them, plus brand new Morgan, who’d barely missed arriving for Mother’s Day.

 _Your first Father’s Day, Mr. Stark!_ Peter had chirped when Pepper told them last week, and something had tightened in Tony’s chest, because he’d certainly never felt like that was true. He and Peter had always done something, even if they’d both refused to acknowledge what day it was out loud. When Peter was _gone_ Tony had spent the day in an alcohol-and-benzodiazepine stupor and then found that damn photo in his kitchen the next morning. A year ago, when he’d been back only a few weeks, Peter spent the rainy day sandwiched between him and May, barely paying attention as the entire Lord of the Rings anthology--extended editions--played across the television screen.

It certainly doesn’t feel like Tony’s first Father’s Day. Frankly, he’d always thought Peter knew it wouldn’t be. It makes his chest and arm ache a little.

His phone pings suddenly, and loudly, in his pocket, and Tony grimaces, but sure enough, Morgan doesn’t so much as stir in May’s arms. It’s unfair, really. He pulls it out and sees an embarrassingly mistyped text. 

Spiderling: _sory sorry 5 minutes thre was a cuoch ? on the tracks had ti gte out an swing._

Tony smiles to himself and hastily responds. _Food and Rhodey not here yet. You’re fine._

Happy strides into the open living space, phone in hand. “Kid just texted there was a couch on the tracks?” He looks up at Tony. “At least I think that’s what it says.”

“Got it.”

“And whisper, Happy,” May chimes in, still cooing at the baby. “Hopefully she’ll stay down until we’re finished eating.”

“I don’t know how you do it, May,” Pepper comes to join them, apparently satisfied with her table. “She’s a wailing monster when it’s just us.”

“Petey was the same, apparently,” she looks up and smiles. “But they’re always good for cool aunts!”

“Too bad he didn’t stay that way,” Happy snorts, heading back into the kitchen. May and Tony share a look.

“Don’t talk about my nephew that way, Harold,” May raises her eyebrows at Tony, and he’s pretty sure she’s remembering the incident last weekend with some asshole who apparently could turn himself into _sand_ , and how yes, there are some days when they both very much wish he’d _stayed that way_. 

Of course, as Peter had once verbalized, it’s possible that then they’d never have met, and then Tony wouldn’t be internally debating exactly what counts as his _first_ Father’s Day, because it certainly isn’t today. 

And right on cue, there’s a thud and a yelp from down the hall, and three sets of eyes immediately dart over to Morgan, waiting with baited breath. May simply rolls her eyes to the ceiling.

“Maybe she doesn’t sleep because you’re all so antsy and she wakes up,” she jokes, squeezing Morgan a little tighter to her chest. “Does everybody just need to cool their jets, Morgan? I think that’s it.”

“Well, in the meantime, someone needs to tell that kid to use the door,” Happy joins them again and flops into a recliner, yanking the footrest up. “Or at least turn FRIDAY back on. Who knows what he’ll get into if he can just sneak in and out of here unannounced. Nobody knowing--” there’s another thud.

“Somehow, I think we’d know,” Pepper laughs, then yawns. Tony glances between the two of them, wondering if Pepper could be talked into a night away, just a room in the Grand Hyatt or even the damn Roosevelt, to get some sleep. Hell, another floor in the tower would work. They’ve been sound-proofed since 2013. A night, an afternoon. Just more than an hour at a time.

“And FRI’s not getting turned on until I muster enough brainpower to separate it from Morgan’s room.” She’s been reduced to emergency alarms and explicitly asked questions since the morning they got home from the hospital and she announced a phone call from Steve, sending Morgan into shrieking wails that went on for hours. That demon doll was more prescient than any of them could have feared. 

Tony hauls himself off his cushion. “I’ll go make sure he’s alive, seeing as nobody else is getting up.”

“Mmm, thank you, Tony,” May coos at Morgan, while Happy shrugs and Pepper goes back to something in the kitchen. 

He’s halfway down the hall when Peter stumbles out of his room, hair a sweaty mess and a blue package tucked under his arm. “Sorry, sorry, Mr. Stark, I know you said 10:30 and I left in time but then apparently there was a whole ass couch on the tracks? Who puts a couch on the tracks? So they weren’t letting anyone on and after twenty minutes I just figured it’d be faster to swing over here and--”

“Yeah, yeah, got it, bud,” Tony reaches out for his shoulder, squeezing and turning to guide him down the hall. “You had plenty of time. How was your Nerd Fest?”

“Oh, fine,” Peter leans into him a little. “Ned and I put together that Sand Crawler you got us, and MJ just kinda...made fun of us the whole time.”

“Sounds incredibly wholesome.”

“Not really, Mr. Stark, Mrs. Leeds made us each a daiquiri. She put a whole shot of rum in each one!”

“A whole shot!” Tony rolls his eyes and laughs. When he was seventeen he’d spend entire weekends blacked out.

“Yeah, I don’t know what we’re gonna do in the fall. It’s gonna be so weird,” Peter’s shoulders slump a little under Tony’s arm. He squeezes a little tighter. He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do either.

“We can set up weekends so you heathens can get together. What college kids have been doing since time immemorial,” they step into the large kitchen, and Tony nods at the dining table across the wide space. Pepper is fiddling with something on it again. “I hope you’re hungry. I think they went overboard when they ordered.

“Yeah, I didn’t eat at Ned’s,” Peter shrugs a bit. “Oh!” He pulls the blue package out from under his arm. “I almost forgot! Happy Father’s Day, Mr. Stark,” Peter hands Tony the gift.

“Pete, you didn’t have to get me a gift,” Tony smirks at him, but takes the present.

“I know, but, like, I wanted to. For this one,” Peter smiles shyly, gesturing to the messily wrapped rectangle in Tony’s hands. 

Tony shakes his head fondly and pats Peter’s head. He carefully tears the blue paper off--Peter used way to much tape, he always does--to reveal a frame. It’s the same style as their internship picture, simple black with a subtle silver embellishment around the edges. Pepper probably helped him pick it out.

The picture in it is messy, a little out of focus, but Tony remembers the moment perfectly: Peter seated in a blue hospital recliner, the footrest up, and a tiny pink bundle in his arms. He’s wearing the ridiculous _Big Brother_ t-shirt they’d bought him to announce that Pepper was pregnant. Peter’s smile is wide, and bright, and completely carefree, the way it always was before the world ended and the way Tony wishes he saw more of than he does now. Tony took the picture himself, a few hours after Morgan was born. He knows that out of frame Pepper is dosing in the hospital bed and May and Happy are sitting on the hospital couch behind him, waiting their turn. Rhodey was on his way, and he sent this picture in a group message to the rest of the team.

Tony pulls the rest of the paper off, balling it up and shoving it in his cardigan pocket. His fingers brush over some slight ridges on the back of the mounting. He flips the photo over, his eyes stinging when he sees two handprints in swirled red and gold paint, one impossibly tiny, nestled between the thumb and forefinger of the other. _We love you! ~Morgan and Peter_ is scrawled in gold Sharpie pen at the bottom of the frame.

“I hope you used non-toxic paint,” Tony sniffs, hard, flipping the frame over again. He runs a finger over the glass, choking a bit on the lump in his throat. “And you’re gonna have to tell me how you got her to stop screaming long enough to do this.”

“The hand print was easy,” Peter looks at the floor and shuffles his socked feet. “Getting her to hold the pen was a bit harder.”

Tony snorts, partially glad the kid is staring at his feet, so he can’t see him quickly wipe his eyes. “You are something else, kid.”

“I mean, I know it should have prob-probably just been Morgan, but--but, she can’t even sit up yet,” Peter starts bouncing from foot to foot, his nervous dance. Like usual, Tony’s insides scream to put him out of his misery. They always do, unless the kid is in trouble. “But, like--”

“Jesus Christ, Pete,” Tony steps forward and tugs him into a crushing hug. Peter seems to wilt in relief against him. “Thank you, bud,” he presses a quick kiss against the side of his head, since he can’t reach the top anymore. He’s growing too fast. Tony squeezes his shoulders then pulls away so he can look Peter straight in the eye. “Best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he pats Peter’s cheeks. “Don’t know how you’re gonna outdo it next year, though.”

“I have some ideas, Mr. Stark,” Peter smiles, the same bright, carefree smile from the photograph. 

“Just make sure that any paint used is non-toxic,” Tony wags a finger in Peter’s face, ruffling his hair when he flinches. “And doesn’t get on Pepper’s couch. Or rug.”

“Hey, I did good this--”

“What is this?” Pepper’s voice drifts over from the dining table, where she’s scratching at something on the polished wood.

“Hmmmm,” Tony quirks an eyebrow when Peter grimaces. “Come on,” he claps a hand on his shoulder. “Morgan was screaming for you all morning.”

“All she does is scream, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, don’t think I haven’t noticed how much less time you’re spending here,” he teases, pushing Peter gently towards the couch where May is relaxed, whispering nonsense to the baby asleep in her arms. “At first I thought you were trying to be considerate, but then I realized it always happened to coincide when Morgan was screaming. In fact, one time you literally walked in and then walked right back out!” 

“Maybe your brain is making you paranoid because you’re so tired, Mr. Stark,” Peter smirks as he sinks down beside May, leaning over to look at Morgan.

“Jim’ll be here in twenty,” Happy announces, holding out his phone and putting the recliner footrest down. “Hopefully her highness will still be asleep. We’re counting on you, May.”

“So little faith, Harold,” May’s eyes glint behind her glasses. “Morgan will not appreciate that. Will you?” Tony holds his breath when she tickles the baby’s chin, but of course, there’s nothing. It’s unnerving. Magical May. “Pepper, when I spoke to the restaurant yesterday, they confirmed 12:30.”

“Perfect! Thank you for helping pull this together, I don’t even know what time means, right now,” Pepper says gratefully, while pulling a large decanter out of the fridge. “S we’ll start mimosas when Jim gets here. Tony, I pumped but just make sure I stick to two.”

“And Pete to one,” Tony smiles at his wife and turns back to Peter and May. She’s gently handing Morgan over, making sure the baby is safely tucked into his arms, that his elbow is crooked just so to hold her head. Peter patiently lets her, as if he’s never done it before and isn’t already secretly planning to take her swinging as soon as she can sit up on her own. 

_So careful with her,_ Tony thinks to himself, smiling. He glances down at the photograph he set on the coffee table. This definitely isn’t his _first_ Father’s Day, but it’s certainly the best one. 

So far.


	2. Even better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nine years in the future...

“Can I have another waffle, Daddy?” 

Tony looks at Morgan over his glass of orange juice. “You gonna tell me what this year’s picture is?”

“Nope!” Morgan smiles a devious, toothy grin, then looks over to Pepper. “Mom, can I have another waffle?”

“You can have the rest of mine, sweetheart,” Pepper plunks the soggy remains of her waffle across the table onto Morgan’s plate. “And Tony, stop. You know he likes it to be a surprise.”

“Nine goddamn years, he can’t give me a break.”

“Daddy! No using Mom’s words,” Morgan mumbles, chewing her waffle loudly.

“And no talking with your mouth full,” Tony reaches over and cuts a large portion of the waffle with his fork. 

“Hey!”

“There will be lots of food later. Don’t want to ruin your dinner,” Tony shoves the dripping piece of waffle in his mouth and barely holds back a grimace. Pepper always uses too much syrup. 

“You either!” Pepper sips her coffee. “So stay out of that box in the fridge. May had a time of it trying to find a place that would make dairy-free lemon curd so don’t go picking at it before everyone gets here.”

“Yes, dear,” Tony smiles over his readers and takes a sip of his own coffee. Aging has not been kind to his digestive system, and he learned several years ago that if there was going to be dairy with dinner, he needed to make sure there was no dairy in the dessert. He always let the kids choose what they ate on Father’s Day--although by the choices Tony is pretty sure Peter has mostly been letting Morgan choose since she was at least four--this year’s feast is Rhodey’s famous taco bar set-up. Which means an inauthentic, dairy-free dessert if he doesn’t want to spend the night in pain and in the guestroom. “When is everyone coming, anyway?”

“Jim will be here by noon, Happy said oneish. The kids said three, and I think May is gonna text me. She’s on call this morning.”

“Hmmm,” Tony swallows the last of his coffee. “So I have over four hours to try and get this out of you,” he reaches over and cuts another piece off Morgan’s waffle.

“I’m not telling you, Dad,” Morgan says matter-of-factly. “It’s always supposed to be a surprise!”

“Yes, _Dad_ ,” Pepper smiles, and Tony has the distinct feeling she knows. “It’s always a surprise!”

“I’m just trying to figure out what wall damage I’ll have to pay to repair,” Tony narrows his eyes at Morgan, who grins wider. Her can see the empty spot where her first molar is still missing. “Keep your secrets.”

Tony ruffles Morgan’s messy hair--she needs a cut--and pushes away from the kitchen table. He surreptitiously catches a red plastic gem that falls off his mug--presented that morning when Morgan jumped right onto his stomach with _World’s Best Iron Dad_ spelled out on a mug in glue-on red and gold plastic jewels--making a note to re-glue them all on later with some industrial strength epoxy. 

There’s a nook with a shelf in the corner of the kitchen, covered in eight years of photographs--so far. Last year’s is one of a paint-covered Morgan and Peter with an exaggerated grimace and a chunk of drywall stuck to his hand; the results of Tony, against his better judgment, allowing them to repaint Morgan’s bedroom. The year before, seven-year-old Morgan was squished between Peter and Michelle, her flower girl’s dress already wrinkled and the tiger lilies in her headband tangling into Michelle’s hair. 

He pauses on the way to the coffee pot, tracking them back to the first: a blurry picture, poorly lit Stark phone photo of Peter holding an hours-old Morgan in a hospital room recliner. Every Father’s Day since he’s received one: some goofy, some sweet, one involving a bloody-mouthed Morgan who’d just finished sobbing when she lost her first tooth (Peter, the little shit, had epoxied it to the back of the frame after they did the tooth-fairy routine), and every year it’s the thing he looks forward to most.

Neither May nor Tony see Peter as much as they’d like anymore; he’d defended his doctoral dissertation a month before his wedding and immediately dove into a start-up, located on the 42nd floor of the tower Tony sold the year Morgan turned four. He’d almost shit himself when Peter dropped he’d spent a sizeable amount of his trust fund to purchase the entirety of what had once been the Tower’s most impenetrable laboratory space. Had he known, he’d have never sold the damn thing.

But between that and Michelle’s investigative reporter job--and the Spider-manning that he’s sworn up and down that he’s cut back on--the weekly lab visits and Saturday night dinners have become few and far between. He thinks he and May probably text each other for news more than they actually talk to Peter. Tony steals a glance back at Morgan, who’s wiping maple syrup off her plate with her finger, and something screams inside him, knowing soon enough she’ll be out of the nest, too.

 _I suppose we knew this going in, Tony. It means we all did a good job_ May had told him last Thanksgiving, when Peter and Michelle spent it with her mother. At least they’d gotten him on Christmas.

“What time did you say Pete was coming again, Pep?”

“He said around three,” Pepper stands from the table and pulls Morgan’s plate away from her sticky finger. “May’s coming on her own.”

“And then TACOS!”

“Yes, Daddy’s favorite dinner,” Pepper rolls her eyes at Tony as she brings the plates to the sink. “So we have to get the dining room cleaned up and everything ready to go before Uncle Jim gets here.”

“Which means you need to figure out how to get the syrup out of your hair,” Tony points at Morgan as he pours a fresh cup of coffee. “I’ll help you if you tell me what’s in the picture.”

“Nope!” Morgan chirps and hops off her chair, darting off down the hall. Tony misses the days when all it took to bribe her was a juice-pop.

******

“Hey, he used the door!” Happy looks up as Peter steps into the penthouse, chewing a raw tortilla. 

“Happy, those are for dinner,” Pepper scolds and runs over to greet Peter and Michelle. She gives each a quick kiss on the cheek, then takes the bowl of guacamole ingredients from Michelle’s hands.

“Yeah, and Jim brought a million of them,” Happy grabs another tortilla off the counter and saunters into the living room, where May is patiently listening to Morgan explain to the rules of Settlers of Catan, as if a nine-year-old Peter had never done the same. 

“Hey kid,” Tony looks up from the glasses he’s rimming with salt as Peter and Michelle come into the kitchen. They both look tired. “How’s Parker Industries?”

“Too much trouble,” Peter scrubs a hand over his face and reaches out for a quick hug. The usual flat, blue package is in his left hand. 

“Should have just taken SI, bud,” Tony squeezes his shoulder with one arm and pecks Michelle on the cheek as she walks around him to grab a knife from the drawer for her avocados, which Pepper has deposited on the counter. 

“Yeah, but then what would Mo get?”

“Well, right now Carol has her convinced she wants to be a pilot, and last week it was a marine biologist, and before that--”

“It was a food critic,” Peter interrupts and grabs one of the raw tortillas for himself. 

“So long as it’s not a super-hero,” Tony grabs a glass stirrer for the large pitcher of margaritas next to his glasses. “Drink?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Peter clears his throat, and glances at Michelle.

“Michelle?”

“No, thanks, Tony,” Michelle smiles, the devious, pit-viper smile she’s always had. “Can’t make everyone’s favorite guac on the sauce.”

“The responsible one,” Tony chuckles, flipping open the bucket of ice on the counter. He fills the glass and pours a generous drink, handing it to Peter. “Now, are you gonna make me ask?” He gestures to the blue package on the counter.

“When MJ’s done,” Peter smiles, taking a sip of his margarita and grimacing. “Holy shit,” he blinks and looks at the glass. “I haven’t had a drink this strong since--”

“Ah!” Tony interrupts. “We agreed to never talk about that in front of your wife,” he winks at Michelle, who rolls her eyes. 

“Oh, this can wait,” Michelle eyes sparkle mischievously as she sets her knife on the cutting board. “Let’s open it now, Pete.”

“Oh, god,” Tony groans and takes a large swig of margarita. 

Peter grins and walks out to the living room. “Mo!”

Tony hears Morgan squeal and pours more margarita into his glass. “Did they destroy anything?” 

Michelle just shrugs and smiles, grabbing the gift as she walks around him to the living room. He follows her, watching as she sits down on the sofa next to May. Rhodey and Happy are on the other sofa, arguing about something. Peter scoops Morgan off the ground where she and Pepper are setting up the complicated board game, and reaches to take the package from Michelle. 

“Ok, Mo-Mo, all the hard work is about to pay off.”

“It better,” she glares at Peter, but the look quickly morphs into a huge smile and barely contained giggles. “It was _awful!_ ”

“It will!” Peter stands up straight and holds out the blue package, smiling in a way that makes him look like a teenager again. “Happy Father’s Day, Tony!”

Behind him, Morgan starts snickering behind her hands and rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. “I don’t trust either of you. If there’s any holes in my walls, you can use the rest of your trust to pay for them.”

“Sure thing, Tony,” Peter shrugs, then reaches behind himself to grab Morgan’s shoulder. “Shhhh,” he admonishes, which only serves to make Morgan cackle harder. Behind them, May scoots forward on the couch and winks at Michelle.

“Tony,” Pepper sits back on her heels. She’s smiling a little too widely as well. “Open it.”

“Here’s to tradition!” Tony carefully rips the paper off--Peter still uses too much tape--setting it on the pony wall. The frame is the same as it always is, black with a simple silver embellishment. He thinks the photo is from Morgan’s birthday party last month, when they’d thrown a picnic at the cabin. She’s sitting half on Peter’s lap and half on Michelle’s, holding a chalkboard in her own.

 _Baby Parker²_ , it reads. _November 2028._

It takes a second, maybe two or three, for Tony’s mind to process what the chalkboard in Morgan’s lap is telling him. “Oh my God,” he starts, actually stumbling back a step. He looks up at Peter, his _kid_ who’s no longer a kid, and is now apparently having his own kid. “Jesus Christ…”

“I’m gonna be an aunt!” Morgan shrieks, jumping up and down behind Peter, who turns and hauls her up onto his back as if she were still a toddler. Behind them, May and Pepper--who apparently is also a traitor--start laughing. Rhodey and Happy both jump off the sofa; Happy grabs the photo first, then passes it off to Rhodey as he gives Peter’s shoulder a manly squeeze.

“Congrats, kid,” he sniffs. “MJ--” for some reason, Happy is one of the few people actually allowed to call her that “--you kids are gonna be great.”

“Thank you, Happy,” Michelle says earnestly, smiling. Tony desperately tries to get his mouth to catch up with his brain--his _kid_ is having _a kid_ \--but all he can do it point and gape at the photo that’s now in Rhodey’s hands.

“Squared?” Rhodey looks up suddenly, at Peter. “Holy shit!” 

“Jim!” Pepper admonishes while Morgan shrieks with laughter, her chin resting on Peter’s shoulder. 

“Yeah…” Peter smiles wider and looks at Tony, lifting two thumbs up where his arms are hooked under Morgan’s legs. “Two…”

“Oh my God,” Tony sputters again, ripping the picture frame from Rhodey’s hand. He looks up at Peter and then back down again, flipping the picture over. On the back is taped a blurry black and white ultrasound photo, two blurry white splotches front and center. _We love you, Grandpa! Morgan, Peter, MJ...and Baby 1 and Baby 2_ is scrawled in silver ink just under it. “Oh my God…”

“I think we broke him, Mo-Mo,” Peter mock-whispers to Morgan, who giggles again.

Tony’s brain spurs up again at that. “You all knew?” he accuses, looking around the room at his family. God, his family is about to get bigger. There’s gonna be two more, in six months.

“I didn’t know!” Happy grabs the picture from Tony. “That’s a good picture.”

“I had an idea,” Rhodey smirks, looking at May. “But I didn’t know about twins.”

“I knew!” Morgan pushes herself farther up on Peter’s back, circling her arms around his neck. “And I didn’t tell anyone!” She says pointedly, turning around to look at her mother.

“Not that your father didn’t try and get it out of you,” Pepper pushes herself to her feet and looks over Happy’s shoulder. “It really is such a good picture.”

“That’s not what’s important! What’s important is that I kept the secret for a whole month, and you didn’t think I could do it, _Mom._ ”

“I knew you could do it, Mo-Mo.”

“No you didn’t, Parker,” Michelle joins them, hugging Morgan from behind. “And I just want it on the record, that this was my idea. I win the Father’s Day picture challenge.”

“You win, so far,” May joins them, ruffling Morgan’s hair. “And I knew you could do it, Morgan.”

Tony takes the photo back from Happy and looks at it again. “Oh my God,” apparently that’s all he’s capable of saying. 

“Happy Father’s Day, _Grandpa,_ ” Peter smiles again, wide and pure.

“Goddamn,” Tony sniffs. “Alright, everyone in,” he pulls Peter and Morgan into a hug, and feels everyone else crowd in around them. He presses a two quick kisses to Peter and Michelle’s heads, and a big one on Morgan’s cheek. “And how come nobody is calling anybody _Grandma?”_

“Because I will always be the cool aunt, Tony Stark.”

“And I’m too young to be a grandma,” Pepper laughs, kissing Tony’s shoulder. 

“I think we’re all too young,” Tony sniffs and chuckles wetly, pulling back slightly to look at the photo again. “Jesus Christ.”

“I know,” Peter laughs, releasing Morgan down to the floor, where she immediately grabs the picture from Tony’s hand. He wraps an arm around Michelle. “And two.”

“Jesus Christ, Tony, there’s gonna be two more.”

“We should call Bruce, Tones.”

“Oh, he already knows,” Michelle leans her head against Peter’s. “We told him after May,” she smiles deviously.

“Did everybody know except me?” Tony glares at everyone.

“Yes,” Morgan leans against his side, still holding the photograph. “We need to put this one in front.”

“Hmmm,” Tony clears his throat. “Agreed. I can’t believe you,” he smiles at Peter, then pulls him away from Michelle and into another tight hug. “Congrats, kid.”

“You too, Tony.” 

Tony kisses the side of his head again. “And I can’t believe you had time for this, but not for the lab with your old man.”

“Oh, it doesn’t take that long, Tony,” Michelle snickers behind them.

“Hey!” Peter pulls out of Tony’s grip and whines, and Tony has to shake himself a little to get the image of fifteen-year-old Peter Parker whining while Tony teased him in the lab out of head. His kid is having kids. 

Michelle just sticks her tongue out and steps around them, back to the kitchen.

Peter responds in kind, then turns back to Tony. “You know, you could always come work in _my_ lab. I mean, it’s not like you’ve had a job in like, eleven years.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Tony laughs again, ruffling Peter’s hair, which he refuses to cut into something that doesn’t make him look like he’s still in undergrad. He turns them both towards the kitchen, where everyone has gathered. “Although I should probably get started on some suits, huh?”

“No!” Peter yelps, a look of genuine fear on his face.

“Heh, now you can feel what all the rest of us feel…” Tony ruffles his hair again. “ _DAD.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> E12 https://archiveofourown.org/users/E12/pseuds/E12 made a comment regarding future photos, so I figured I had to do this little blip sooner than I was originally planning!

**Author's Note:**

> My paternal DNA donor is garbage. It's part of why Tony Stark has been my imaginary dad since 2008.
> 
> Enjoy this entirely self-indulgent, empty-calorie fluff. We all need that some time, right?
> 
> There's a universe where Tony is celebrating with his family, with both his kids, and Harley will probably send an obnoxious text right after dinner, too. He's certainly happy in my universe.


End file.
